Full House
by Sparky Dorian
Summary: Sequel to Across the Board. 26 more fun-filled White Collar shorts. Anything goes here, so we'll have a lot of variety. Possible S1 spoilers, no slash!
1. Amy

_A/N: Alright, so. We embark on a new voyage of White Collar Shorts. We'll see how it goes! I hope you all like them. They are pre-written and all of them but the last couple were finished before 2x01 came out. So, don't expect many tags to new episodes. Enjoy!_

Neal Caffrey ran a hand through his dark curls. Quickly he adjusted his textbook under his arm and stepped up the cement path to the house. He told himself he didn't _need_ to be nervous, it was just a study session. But he was nervous anyway. He smoothed out his dark blue t-shirt again and knocked on the door. After a few seconds it opened and he was met with a beaming grin. 

"Hi, Neal!"

"Hey, Amy," Neal said. He smiled at the girl who was his desk partner for his seventh-grade science class.

"Oh, good, you brought your book. I accidentally left mine at school." She blushed slightly, her freckles standing out against the pale pink.

"I've done that before," Neal said with a sympathetic smile. "Well, I'm glad I brought mine then. I almost didn't." He hesitated slightly.

"Oh! Sorry!" Amy stepped aside. "Wanna come in?"

"Sure," Neal said. He walked into her house and the smell of chocolate filled his nose. He took off his sneakers and left them by the door, embarrassed at how worn they looked compared to hers. But she didn't seem to notice or care as she took off her own shoes.

"I just barely got home from dance, I'm sorry I didn't have time to go over anything before." Her green eyes danced as she yelled. "Mom! Neal's here to study!"

"Alright," a woman's voice floated from up the stairs. "I'll be down in a minute. Don't touch the cupcakes yet, they need to cool down still."

"Okay," Amy called back. She gave Neal an apologetic grin. "Sorry. Big house, loud voice." Neal laughed.

"It's all good," he assured her. "Your house is really nice."

"Thanks," Amy said, rolling her eyes with a smile. "It's a pain to keep clean, though. 'specially with the Terrors." He'd already learned this was her way of referring to her younger siblings, a boy and girl twin. She loved them, though, Neal could tell. They walked toward the kitchen and Neal smiled at a photograph of Amy, her parents, and her siblings all grinning.

"My mom was excited I was having a friend over," Amy said as they entered the kitchen. "She says I never bring anyone _here. _I usually go to their houses. So she made cupcakes."

"That was nice of her," he commented, surprised.

"Yeah," Amy said, shrugging as if it wasn't a big deal. Which, to Neal, it definitely was. "She likes cooking, so..." She sat down at the counter and pulled some notepaper and pens out of her backpack. With a grin, she brushed her curly red hair out of her eyes and bounced on the barstool. "Well, go on, sit down."

Neal realized he'd been unconsciously waiting for permission to be given and felt the embarrassment return as he sat on the stool next to her. But once again she didn't seem to notice or care and she tapped a pen against the counter.

"So. We have to study pages seventeen to _nineteen_?" Amy asked.

"To page twenty-one," he said. "He changed it today."

"Oh." Amy rolled her eyes. "Gosh, I'm so spacey. Sorry."

"It's fine," Neal said with a smile. "Sometimes he can be _really_ hard to pay attention to."

"Tell me about it!" Amy said with a light laugh. They went over the pages of material together, trying to guess what would be on the test then quizzing one another. By the time they were on page twenty, Amy's mother had come downstairs with two red-headed preschoolers. They grinned identically and their mother sat them down at the counter.

"Do you like chocolate or strawberry cupcakes, Neal?" She asked him.

"Chocolate would be wonderful," he said politely. "Thank you, Mrs. McLean." She set the cupcake down in front of him then gave Amy a chocolate and her siblings both strawberry.

"You're quite welcome. I'm glad you could come over." She gave him a warm smile.

"I'm glad, too, thank you." Neal smiled back. Amy ate her cupcake quickly and got another one, but Neal took slow bites of his as they continued studying. It took longer than he'd expected, and by the time they'd finished Amy's father had returned from work.

"I'm home," he said in a cheerful, singsong voice.

"Daddy!" The twins jumped up from the counter and one grabbed on to each of his legs. He kept walking, dragging them with him, and they giggled madly.

"Hi, honey," he said, kissing his wife on the cheek.

"Eww!" The twins darted away. "Kissing!" Amy laughed, rolling her eyes.

"Hi Dad." Mr. McLean gave her a hug and looked at Neal.

"Hello, son. Are you Amy's science partner that she's been saying so much about?"

"Dad!" Amy looked mortified, blushing bright pink. Neal smiled politely and shook Mr. McLean's hand.

"I suppose so, Sir. I'm Neal Caffrey."

"Good to meet you, Neal," Amy's father said. "Are you going to be staying for dinner?"

"I'm not sure..." Neal was very hesitant.

"You can if you'd like to," Amy's mother offered. Amy gave him a thumbs-up and Neal nodded. Hopefully he could still get home on time.

"I would love to stay. Thank you very much." Amy beamed at him and Neal felt his cheeks heat up slightly as he grinned back at her.

"D'you wanna come see my kittens?" Amy asked him. "Now that we're done studying."

"Sure," Neal said, nodding.

"Alright!" Amy slid off her stool and Neal followed her upstairs. They spent the next twenty minutes playing with her two fluffy gray kittens. Her siblings (who he learned were named Timmy and Jane) came in several times. Amy made them leave the first two, but then Neal said it was fine with him if they stayed. He didn't get to play with younger kids very often.

"Kids!" Mr. McLean called up the stairs. "Dinner!" They made it downstairs and everyone was sitting down. The family traded laughter and stories as they ate, and Neal felt a strange mixture of feeling out-of-place and longing. At the same time it was very nice. They included him in a lot of their talking and he was sad when the meal was over.

"I have to get home now," Neal said regretfully when Amy asked if he could stay a little longer.

"Aw, are you sure?" She pleaded.

"Well, I-" Neal didn't really know how to explain. Mrs. McLean set a hand on his shoulder.

"Now, Amy, he's already stayed a long time. We wouldn't want him to get in trouble, would we?" She asked. Neal felt a rush of relief.

"No," Amy said quickly. "Okay, sorry Neal. I'm glad you could come though! Thanks for studying with me!"

"It was really fun," Neal said with a grin. Timmy and Jane gave him enthusiastic waves as he started to the door. He pulled on his sneakers. "Thank you, Mr. and Mrs. McLean. Dinner was delicious."

"Come back anytime," Mr. McLean said. "We're glad to have you."

"Bye!" Amy called after him as he walked down the path with his textbook back under his arm. Neal grinned and waved, then as he turned the corner the smile turned wistful. He hoped Amy knew how lucky she was.


	2. Banana

_A/N: A big thanks to all the reviews, alerts, and favorites! I love you guys! I'm not as happy with this chapter, it was written when I was in a mood... So it feels choppy and harsh to me, but it wanted to be that way. Thoughts?_

Peter Burke let out a sigh of boredom and leaned back in his rather uncomfortable chair. It had been nearly four hours since he'd parked outside of Caffrey's latest apartment. So far there had been no sign of movement and he was very sick of the whole thing. Unfortunately he had to just deal with it. _Cowboy up_ as his father would say.

He glanced out the window again and saw nothing. Of course there was nothing. Caffrey knew he was out there, Peter was sure of it. So he would do nothing that would get him caught until Peter had left. To top it all off, the air conditioning in the van was broken, so it was incredibly hot, and Peter was also starving.

All in all, not a good experience. After a few more minutes of silence, Peter's phone rang. He picked it up.

"Hello?"

_"Hey,"_ his wife's voice said. _"How's it going?"_

"Oh, it's going fine," Peter said with a smile he hoped showed in his voice. "Just sitting outside Caffrey's apartment in the van."

_"That's... good,_" Elizabeth said slowly. _"Do you know when you'll be home?"_

"Whenever Hughes tells me I'm done," he said. "Probably not before dinner. I'm sorry, El."

_"It's okay. Don't apologize." _Elizabeth sounded slightly let down. _"I'll talk to you tonight, okay, honey?"_

"Alright. I love you," Peter said.

_"I love you, too_._" _Elizabeth hung up the phone and Peter leaned his head back against the seat, letting out a sigh. He wished he were already home with her, not stuck in the hot, silent van.

Suddenly a knock sounded from the side of the van. Peter poked his head out and saw a young teenager standing with a grocery sack.

"Are you Mr. Burke?" He asked.

"Agent Burke, yes," Peter said.

"I'm s'posed to give this to you." The kid tossed the sack into Peter's arms and left as quickly as he'd come. Peter frowned curiously and looked inside. There was a sandwich from some deli, and a bottled water. Peter rolled his eyes amusedly. His stomach grumbled at the smell of food and he took a bite of the sandwich.

It was from Neal, he knew it was. That was just the sort of thing the guy did. Peter also knew that Neal would be watching him, so he rolled down his window and waved.

"Thank you," he said to the building. It didn't take him long to finish the food and he went to throw the garbage away in the grocery sack when something else fell out. A container of yellow pudding and a plastic spoon. With a short laugh, Peter opened the pudding and took a bite. As he'd suspected, it was banana-flavored. That was actually sort of nice.

Caffrey knew his stuff. Most people would just go for a standard flavor, but Neal went the extra mile and found out your favorite, then got that. Peter kept watching the building out of the corner of his eye and let out a sigh. He wished he could just make Caffrey stop all this before the kid got himself arrested for life. It wasn't the first time he'd wished that, either. It would be better all around. It wasn't a realistic wish, though, as much as he desired it.

Banana pudding or no, they were on opposing sides of the law, and they both knew it.


	3. Cold

_A/N: Sorry I didn't post this last night. Time got away from me. Anyway, here's a Little!Neal and Mozzie story for you! I hope you enjoy! :)_

Mozzie sneezed dejectedly. Today hadn't been his day. He looked up at the sun setting in the western sky, sending purple and orange flames across the horizon. It was sort of pretty, but he wished it wasn't setting just yet.

It was at the point in the year where the sun could barely warm things up, and at night it was freezing still. Speaking of which, Mozzie needed to bring a scarf next time. He pulled up his coat collar so it was sort of keeping his neck warm and shoved his hands into his pockets.

Somehow he managed to still be freezing, and kept sneezing and coughing intermittently. This earned him looks of either sympathy or irritation from those he passed. Not that Mozzie noticed the looks. He generally ignored the masses.

Half way down the sidewalk he was on, Mozzie coughed hard again several, causing his head to go forward and his glasses to fall off. With a muttered curse he bent down to pick them up. Luckily they weren't cracked at all, and he replaced them on the bridge of his nose.

"You should get that looked at," a young voice advised him from behind. "It sounds like it could get nasty." Mozzie jumped and spun around.

"Crap, Neal. Don't _do_ that to me." Mozzie rubbed the side of his head as Neal gave him a bright grin.

"Sorry," Neal said. Mozzie rolled his eyes.

"Sure," he muttered. "And I'm not getting it _looked at_. Doctors and hospitals are just tools of the bureaucratic government in order to keep tabs on us." Neal raised one eyebrow and shrugged, his eyes showing concern.

"Whatever you say, Mozzie. But you shouldn't be out in this weather with that sort of a cold without a scarf or a hat or anything."

Mozzie let out a bark of laughter. "Look at the pot calling the kettle black!" He gave Neal a pointed look. "You're in short sleeves, my friend. I don't think you can be telling me to bundle up."

Neal's eyes darkened slightly, then he grinned. "I don't get sick," he said nonchalantly. "Lucky me."

"Yeah, now you're going to, just because you said that. Better knock on wood."

"I didn't think you were the superstitious type," Neal said.

"I'm not. Habits picked up from the masses." Mozzie shrugged. Neal grinned again.

"I see." The teen looked up ahead and Mozzie saw something akin to mischief in his blue eyes.

"Come with me." Neal grabbed Mozzie's arm and pulled him with him up the street. Mozzie yanked his arm away.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa. Not happening," he said. Neal crossed his arms.

"Remember that time I went to get ice cream with you? When we'd _barely_ met?"

"Yes," Mozzie said cautiously.

"Well, if I did that, don't you think you can trust me enough to just follow me for a minute? Please?" Neal gave him a dazzling grin and Mozzie rolled his eyes.

"Your charms have won me over," Mozzie said drily. "Lead on."

Neal led Mozzie to a small restaurant that was tucked back into a corner of a lot. It was the sort of place you didn't really see unless you were looking for it. Neal smiled and walked him inside to sit down. "Okay, come sit here," Neal said with a small smile.

"Why are we here?" Mozzie asked, a slight whining edge to his tone as he sat. Neal gave him a look.

"Because you're sick, and they have the best chicken soup anywhere." Neal sat down across from Mozzie and waited for the waitress to come over.

"Neal, I haven't seen you here in a long time," the waitress said with a curious smile. Neal shrugged lightly, but Mozzie could see a weight behind it.

"I've been busy, I guess. We need two bowls of your traditional chicken soup and two orange juices, please," Neal asked politely. The waitress nodded.

"I'll have it out in a jiffy," she promised, walking away.

"You've been here before?" Mozzie asked. Neal got a slightly guarded look as he answered.

"When I was little my mom would bring me here when it was cold or one of us wasn't feeling too well. She can't cook to save her life, so we got soup here."

Mozzie wondered a bit at the _when I was little_ part, but he just nodded. "It's nice."

"The food is even better," Neal promised. And it was. Mozzie was glad he'd agreed to come. The warm soup and sweet juice were just what he needed, and he felt a hundred times better when he was done. When he went to pay, Neal stopped him.

"I invited you, so I'm paying."

Mozzie gave him a look. _With what money_?

"I worked all last Saturday shoveling snow. I've got some." Neal was firm and Mozzie let him do as he wished. They walked back out into the street and Neal let out a sigh.

"Thanks," he said.

"I should be thanking _you_," Mozzie said.

Neal shrugged noncommittally. "I owed you one." He blinked in the half-darkness and held out his hand. Mozzie shook it with a smile.

"Well," Neal said, turning to go. "Feel better. I'll see you around."

"Bye." Mozzie stood for a moment, watching the slim frame dissolve beyond the street lamps, then walked out into the cold night.


	4. Dog

A/N: Thanks for all your awesome reviews! So... I wrote this without thinking about Diana not having been with the WCD for too long. So, just... suspend disbelief, 'cause I'd guess in the series they got him before Diana came. If that bugs you too much... Just pretend it's some other FBI lady named Diana, I guess.

"And she's only got one left now. She doesn't know what she's going to do with him, she might have to take him to the shelter. Isn't that sad?" Peter blinked. Up until this point he'd really only been half-listening to Diana, and he had no idea what she wanted him to say.

"Yes?" He said, hoping it was the right answer. She rolled her eyes.

"How much of that did you get?" She asked with a small grin.

"None," Peter admitted.

"That's what I thought," Diana said with mock-exasperation. "Alright, well. My friend's lab had puppies a couple months ago and all of 'em got adopted but one. And if she can't give it away she'll have to take it to the shelter. I wish I could adopt the little guy, but I can't have pets in my apartment."

Peter nodded slowly.

Diana lifted one eyebrow. "Weren't you saying something the other week about Elizabeth wanting a dog?"

"Well... yeah, she had talked about it."

"Why don't you and Elizabeth adopt him?" Diana suggested with a smile. Peter was floored.

"I- no, we can't. If we ever got a dog, it would have to be small. Not a lab. And..."

"It's almost Christmas, Peter. Wouldn't it be a good surprise?" Diana tilted her head to one side. Peter shifted.

"Well..." Peter was quiet as he thought. It would make Elizabeth happy. She was alone so much with him working... And labs were nice, friendly dogs. He continued to mull it over as they worked, and when they finally finished he looked up at Diana.

"Does your friend live close?" He asked hesitantly.

"Yeah," Diana said. "Just a couple blocks away."

"Uh huh. Well... do you think we could drop by?"

"Sure!" Diana said brightly. She seemed happy that Peter was considering it.

Half an hour and a pair of brown puppy eyes later, Peter was grudgingly sold on the idea. He spoke with Diana's friend about picking the puppy up late on Christmas Eve and then went home.

Christmas morning came quickly. More quickly than he would've expected, actually. He was glad he had one good gift planned for her. They opened their few presents and Elizabeth smiled.

"I'm going to go cut the cinnamon rolls," she said, rising. Peter grabbed her hand.

"Wait, I think there's one more present," he told her with a teasing grin.

"What?" Elizabeth gave him a confused look.

"Close your eyes and sit down on the couch," he directed her. After making sure she did so, he went to the bathroom and gently scooped the puppy out of its carrier. He thanked his lucky stars that the lab puppy didn't seem to be the barky type as he walked back into the living room.

"Keep them closed," he said teasingly.

"I am," Elizabeth said, fidgeting curiously. Peter laughed as he leaned closer to her face. The puppy reached out and licked the side of her cheek. Elizabeth's dark eyes flew open, her mouth a surprised 'o' shape.

"A puppy?" Her surprise turned to delight and she took the puppy from him, burying her hands in his soft fur.

"I wanted you to have someone here when I'm not," Peter said sincerely, sitting down next to her. Elizabeth took his hand in hers and kissed it gently, her eyes shining.

"Thank you, Peter. I love you so much."

"I love you, too," he said quietly. There was a moment of silence then Peter asked, "So what are you going to name him?"

Elizabeth laughed lightly. "I'll have to think about it for a while," she said. She let the puppy down. "Keep an eye on him while I get the food ready?"

"Sure," Peter said, feeling happy that she'd liked the surprise. Elizabeth went into the kitchen and came out a few minutes later with a plate of cinnamon rolls, two glasses of hot chocolate, and a big smile.

"I have the perfect name," she declared. Peter laughed.

"Let me guess. Rover."

"No," Elizabeth said patiently. She grinned. "Satchmo."

"Hm..." Peter ruffled the dog's fur. "I like it. Well, welcome to the family, Satchmo." 


	5. Elephant

_A/N: This chapter is sorta for Rainchecker, who asked on the last batch of shorts for a story with Peter and Neal both drugged. I hope it's alright._

"Okay, Peter, now we need to be quiet," Neal said, trying to keep the FBI agent upright while also staying standing himself. Neither of them had expected to be drugged at the seemingly innocent "meeting" and end up sneaking away. Neal had just ended up chloroformed (he hoped), but Peter seemed to also have been given something else.

"'kay," Peter slurred. They continued down the back stairs and Neal stopped them, looking around for guards and trying to ignore his lingering headache.

"I think we can make it to the door," Neal said thoughtfully. He took Peter's arm and supported him toward it. He tried it but it was locked. Which, really, who locked their doors from the outside? It didn't make any sense. Unless there were locks on both sides. That also didn't make sense. But in any case, the door was locked. Neal set Peter on the ground and made a shhing motion.

"Hopefully I can open it," he muttered. Neal reached into Peter's pocket and pulled out the tools. He was surprised they'd taken both cell phones but not the lock-picking tools. Nothing really made sense today. Oh well. He selected what he hoped would be the right one and moved to the lock.

"You didn't ask first," Peter said accusingly.

"You _do_ want to get out of here, right?" Neal said with a raised eyebrow. Peter shrugged.

"Good point..." his words trailed off and he stared into space with an absent smile. Neal blinked several times to clear the fog that settled on his vision and started working on it. All was silent as he finally got it to click and hoisted Peter up.

"Looks like we're good to go," Neal said. They made it into the cold, quiet night air. "I hope I can remember where we parked."

"Over there," Peter said with a triumphant smile. Neal gave him a slightly surprised look and went in that direction.

"Nice job," he said as they found the Taurus.

"You're really smart, y'know?" Peter said with a lopsided grin.

"Uh... thank you?" Neal replied with a puzzled look. That had come out of nowhere. He looked the Agent over. Peter was definitely more drugged than Neal, the ex-con had realized that earlier. But maybe even more than Neal had originally thought. Peter didn't normally go around dispensing compliments like that. Except to Elizabeth, of course. But that was normal, since they were married and all.

"Yeah," Peter continued with a sage nod. "Your brain must be, like, elephant-sized."

"Elephant-sized." Neal gave him a blank look. "Uh huh." He got Peter into the passenger seat.

"Hey! My car!" Peter said, reaching to move over.

"Not happening," Neal told him firmly. "Unless you want us to both die." Peter leaned back and crossed his arms.

"Fine," he said sulkily. Neal got in and started driving very carefully and after a minute Peter looked over, suddenly curious and much happier.

"How do you _get_ an elephant-sized brain anyway?" He inquired.

Neal sighed. He didn't want to try and reason with the agent right now. So he smiled patiently. "You eat lots of vegetables and go to bed on time."

"Really?" Peter frowned. "Hm. Weird."

"Yep," Neal agreed, rolling his eyes slightly.

"Do you think I could start _now_?" Peter asked after a moment, looking very enthusiastic.

"Sure, Peter. That sounds like a great idea." In his current state Peter totally missed the sarcasm. The agent grinned.

"I know!" He said.

"Good luck with that," Neal muttered. Peter just kept grinning.


	6. Frog

_A/N: Yes, another Peter/Neal buddy banter chapter. You know you love them. At least, I know I do._

Peter looked out his office window, sighing. He took a drink of his coffee and nearly choked on it as Neal suddenly popped up behind him. 

"Morning!" The consultant sounded cheerful. Peter swallowed the hot beverage and turned to face Neal with a reproving look.

"Don't do that," he said. Neal got a funny look on his face, head tilting slightly to one side.

"What's wrong with your voice?" He asked.

"Nothing," Peter said defensively. He pushed his chair back to the desk.

"Then why do you sound funny?" Neal persisted, sitting down across from him.

"I just have a frog in my throat. It's nothing," Peter said flatly. Neal nodded slowly.

"If you say so." He shrugged. Peter continued what he'd originally been working on and looked up when he noticed how quiet Neal was. The man's eyes held his _thinking about something _look. Usually that meant trouble for Peter.

Peter gave him a look and Neal shrugged.

"I was just wondering how that started," Neal said innocently. "The 'frog in your throat' expression."

"Sure," Peter said, rolling his eyes slightly.

"Really," Neal insisted. "I like to know these sorts of things."

"Well, _I_ don't," Peter said, giving Neal a raised eyebrow. "Now take this stack of paperwork down to the computer and enter the data."

"Yes, O Croaky One," Neal said with a teasing grin. Peter gave him a mock-glare and Neal took the paperwork with a long-suffering sigh. Peter watched him go to sit down at the desk and start typing. Peter kept working on his own data entry, glancing at Neal from time to time.

One of these times Neal caught Peter looking and made a very pitiful face. Peter just shook his head, waiting until Neal looked away to grin. Neal finished more quickly than Peter would've expected, and walked back into Peter's office.

He set the paperwork down on the desk and Peter looked up. Neal's face was a puzzling mixture of disgust and triumph.

"What?" Peter asked. Neal sat down and the strange expression remained.

"I found out how the saying started," the ex-con said.

"You did?" Peter asked surprisedly, raising one eyebrow. Only Neal...

"Yeah," Neal said, swiveling in his chair silently. Peter knew was he was doing. He refused to feel curious.

Neal remained quiet, looking nonchalant as he doodled on a sticky note. Peter glanced over and Neal moved it back slightly with a raised eyebrow. He continued wordless waiting, and Peter rolled his eyes.

"Okay, _fine_," Peter said. "How did it start?"

Neal gave him a dazzling grin, then the slightly disgusted look returned. "In medieval times, the doctors thought that putting a frog in your mouth could cure a cough because of the secretions." Peter grimaced.

"Oh," Peter said. "That's... gross."

"Yep," Neal agreed. "But now I know."

"Feel better now?" Peter asked drily.

"Much," Neal said with a nod, ignoring the sarcasm. "Too bad I don't have a frog, though."

"It's such a shame," Peter agreed with mock-sympathy.

"Ah, well," Neal said, shrugging and standing up. "Maybe food will help. Want to go get lunch, Your Croakiness?"

"Sure," Peter said. "But stop with the frog jokes."

"If it makes you _hoppy_," Neal said, then winced. "Okay, that one was really bad."

"It was," Peter agreed with a grin. "You done?"

"Yeah," Neal said sheepishly. "The moment has passed."

"I'm glad," Peter said with a slightly teasing smile. "Or I wouldn't have given you the message that El wants you to come over for meatloaf tonight."

"Oh," Neal said. "I'm glad you decided to. Or I would've been _green_ with envy."

Peter gave him a flat look.

"Sorry," the man said with a shrug. "I couldn't resist. Now I'm done."

"Good," Peter said. "It was _toad_ally annoying."

Neal paused for a moment, looking slightly puzzled, then laughed. He patted Peter's shoulder. "It's a start."

"Thanks." Peter pulled on his suit jacket and smiled. "Now let's go eat."

"I bet we could get you some flies."

"Neal..."


	7. Genuine

_A/N: This is a short one, but I like it. :)_

Neal Caffrey looked out the window of the café he'd ducked into and quickly jerked his head back. Federal Agent Peter Burke was right outside, running a hand through his hair in frustration. Neal leaned back enough that he wouldn't be seen and silently observed Peter. Peter pulled out his cell phone and dialed. He turned away from Neal, who then could not read his lips. As Burke continued to look around, Neal saw the word _"sir" _several times, so he guessed the agent was talking to a superior.

Peter turned his head slightly and Neal saw, _"I lost him. For now. But I'll keep looking_._" _Neal let out a breath. Peter was very honest, that was certain. Neal would _never_ admit to a superior that he was- at least temporarily- failing at a task he'd been given.

But that was Peter Burke for you.

Everything about the agent was real. His love for his wife, his dedication to his career, even the frustration Neal now saw in his face. Nothing was faked or covered or modified.

_"Yes, sir, I'll keep you apprised," _Burke said, then hung up the phone. Neal saw him heave a sigh and then Peter's head snapped suddenly around to the window. Brown eyes met blue ones and Peter looked surprised then determined. He darted into the café, but Neal was already half way out of the back exit. Not to be deterred so easily, Peter continued to race after him.

"Caffrey! Stop!" Burke yelled to him. He sounded tired and frustrated and a little disappointed. Again Neal noted that nothing was moderated. It was part of what made Peter who he was, Neal supposed. A word popped into his mind that described the agent almost perfectly.

"Sorry, Peter," Neal said, flashing an apologetic grin. "No can do." And he disappeared into a crowd. From where he stood hidden in a shop behind merchandise, he heard Peter swear angrily.

Eventually the agent moved on, but Neal was still thinking about him.

Sometimes, he _almost_ wished he could be that genuine.

Almost.


	8. Hike

_A/N: Hey guys, sorry for the long delay! I was sleeping over at my Aunts' house all weekend. Thanks for the reviews in my absence, I hope this is worth the wait!_

"But Da-ad!" Elizabeth protested. "Lisa doesn't have to go, why do I?"

"Lisa is working all day, Lizzie," her dad reminded her gently. "And we'll have fun."

"Daddy," Elizabeth said with a pleading expression. "It's the last week of summer vacation. I was gonna call a friend to see if we could go see a movie."

"Sweetheart, there's still tomorrow and Sunday, and we really want you to come," Dad said. Owen nodded with all the enthusiasm his nine-year-old self could muster. Elizabeth groaned. He was six years younger than her and sometimes she didn't really understand him.

"Do I have a choice?" She asked. Her dad just shrugged, looking hopeful. "Fine. I'll come. But I won't have fun."

"That's up to you, Liz," he told her. He pulled her and Owen into a hug and Elizabeth smiled slightly against her will.

"Let's go!" Owen said, impatiently squirming out of the hug.

"Alright, Owen," her dad laughed. "Hold your horses." They put the rest of the gear into the jeep and then piled in. Elizabeth took the back seat and leaned her head against the window, sulking as they passed her friends' houses. Her father glanced at her in the rearview mirror and he let out a short sigh.

"Turn on the music, Dad!" Owen said, bouncing in his seat. Dad smiled at him and flicked on country music. Elizabeth didn't join in with her father and brother's _interesting_ singing, but occasionally she smiled slightly as their voices cracked.

"Alright, we're here," Dad declared. He parked, and any good mood Elizabeth had been feeling vanished instantly. The trail looked steep, and there wasn't much shade.

"It's shorter than it looks," Dad promised. He pulled out his large backpack and put it on, passing each of the kids a water bottle.

"Will you hand me my hat, Lizzie?" Owen asked her. She passed it over silently and followed them up the trial, hanging back as far as her father would allow her to. Owen stayed right with her dad and after a while he called to her.

"Lizzie! Come see this!" Elizabeth walked slowly toward them and Owen's face fell.

"Aw, you missed it," he said. "It was a cute baby chipmunk."

"I don't care," Elizabeth said with a shrug. Owen shrugged in return and bounced back to their dad.

The hike up took over an hour, and Elizabeth "missed" seeing several more interesting things. She half-wished she'd just waited in the car, but with the direct sunlight it probably would've been worse.

"Hey, Lizzie, Owen," her dad called. Owen had fallen back slightly to watch some red ants. They both caught up with him and he grinned. "We're at the top. I want you both to close your eyes, okay?"

"Alright!" Owen exclaimed, closing his eyes and bouncing impatiently. Elizabeth hesitated for a moment before closing hers.

"Okay, I won't let you fall. I'm just leading you through some bushes." Her dad planted a hand on their shoulders and led them forward. Elizabeth felt a rush of cooler air and a fresh smell filled her nose.

"Alright. When I count to three, open them. One... two... three."

Elizabeth's dark eyes snapped open and she let out a little breath of surprise. Thick trees hung over them, creating shade. A very small waterfall fed a little pond and river, and several small patches of flowers were growing around the clearing.

"This is awesome!" Owen declared, laughing as he kicked off his shoes and stuck his feet in.

"It's nice," Elizabeth said, nodding. Her dad pulled her into a sideways hug and then started to lay out a lunch from his backpack. Elizabeth let out a mental sigh. She'd been so rude.

"Can I help you, Daddy?" She asked. He nodded with a smile.

"Sure. Want to spread out the tablecloth on this big rock?"

That was her dad. Never saying _I told you so. _Just forgiving and forgetting and loving. She gave him a big hug.

"Thanks for bringing us here, Daddy. I love you."

"I love you, too, Lizzie."

From behind them, a big splash sounded. "Ahh! This is _cold_!" Owen shouted. He dragged himself, dripping wet, back to the bank and then grinned mischievously, running toward them and joining their hug.

"_Owen_! You're getting us wet!" Elizabeth protested, laughing.

"But it's a _loving_ sort of wet," Owen said with a giggle.

"Well, you'll have to dry on the way down. Come eat." Dad released the sopping wet nine-year-old and they all sat down around the rock.

"This was the best hike ever!" Owen said. Elizabeth giggled.

"Yeah," she agreed. "It was."


	9. Incredible

_A/N: Who else is totally excited/nervous for tonight's episode?_

The conference room was silent as six FBI agents and one consultant attempted to find a way to explain the confusing nature of their latest case. Suddenly the consultant's eyes lit up.

"I think I have an idea," he said with a grin. Jones looked over and had to restrain a laugh at his expression. Agent Burke regarded the consultant silently for a moment.

"You do." The statement was flat, accompanied by a raised eyebrow.

"Yes," Neal said, nodding. Peter looked around the room to see if anyone else was volunteering to try. When no one else made a move to answer, Peter rolled his eyes slightly.

"Fine, go ahead, Caffrey," Burke said. Neal grinned.

"Alright." Neal flashed a charming grin and launched into a description of how the heist could've been pulled off, weaving what information they already had into the story with what seemed like no effort. Jones watched, amused and fascinated, as some of the agents started checking the surveillance records and found that much of it actually fit Caffrey's story. When Neal finished summarizing his _idea_, the room was quiet and everyone looked a little surprised. Finally Peter broke the silence.

"Where did you pull _that_ from?" The agent asked, his tone a mixture of exasperation, interest, and slight amusement.

Neal just shrugged. "It's what _I_ would do."

Peter shook his head. "Incredible."

"Thank you!" Neal said brightly. Peter rolled his eyes and scribbled something on the back of a file. He held it up and Jones grinned when he read it. _Sarcasm_.

"How Big Bang Theory of you, Peter," Neal said with a hint of dryness in his voice. "But for the record, I actually _got _the sarcasm there. I just find it's easier to pretend it's a sincere compliment and respond accordingly."

"That's _fascinating_," Hughes drawled. "However you came up with it, I want you all to check it out. It's better than nothing."

A murmur of agreement echoed around the room and the meeting ended. As agents began to filter out, Jones put a hand on Neal's shoulder.

"Hey, Neal, nice job in there," Jones said with a grin. Neal looked surprised for a moment, then he smiled.

"Thanks, Jones," Neal said. Jones nodded sincerely; he'd meant it, because, sarcasm aside, he really did think what Neal did was pretty incredible, and he thought that everyone deserved some appreciation now and then.

"Caffrey!" Agent Burke's voice came from his office next door. "Are you coming _today_?" Neal flashed Jones a half-sheepish, half-amused grin and wave him a nod before sliding into the other room. Jones stood there for a moment, listening to parts of their conversation filter in.

"...and we could get NYPD to help! Detective Beckett and you are buddies, right?"

"Oh, yeah, we go _way_ back. Amusement park trips and everything." Jones could practically hear Peter roll his eyes. He turned to see Neal affecting uncertainty.

"Was that sincere?" He asked nervously. "I can't tell. I think I need _the sign_ again." Peter held the _sarcasm_ file up and whacked Neal on the top of the head with it.

"Hey! Not fair," Neal protested. "I didn't do anything!"

"Oh, _no_," Peter said. "Nothing at all." He held up the sign and Neal flinched slightly then gave Peter a dry look.

"I'm so glad you agree," the consultant deadpanned. And then both of them were sitting at the desk and discussing the case. Jones allowed himself a short laugh as he returned to sit at his desk.

Yep, those two were pretty incredible.


	10. Jaundice

_A/N: No spoilers in reviews, please! I haven't seen it yet... Thanks guys for all your support!_

Elizabeth Burke was sitting peacefully at her dining room table with her husband and the FBI consultant they'd sort of adopted into their family. 

"This is really good," Peter said.

"Delicious," Neal agreed. Elizabeth smiled.

"I'm glad you think so," she said. The phone rang and Elizabeth checked the caller ID.

"Mind if I take this?" She asked. They both shook their heads. "Thanks." She picked up the phone and walked into the kitchen.

"Hey, Lisa," she said. She spoke with her older sister for a few moments and then walked back into the dining room.

"Was that your sister?" Peter asked.

"Yes," Elizabeth said. "She and Caden are both doing well." She looked at Neal, who hadn't heard the news. "My sister had her baby a couple days ago. She was just calling to give an update."

Neal nodded. "That's good," he said. "So everything went okay?"

"It did," Elizabeth said with a smile. "Caden has a little bit of jaundice, but he'll get over it with some time." Peter nodded, but Elizabeth saw confusion fill Neal's eyes. She knew he likely wouldn't _ask_ for clarification. He didn't like to appear unknowledgeable. So Elizabeth just went ahead and told him.

"Jaundice is... when babies' skin is sort of yellow," she explained simply. "It's pretty common, but it won't really hurt him."

"Interesting," Neal said nonchalantly, but flashed her a grateful smile. They continued their meal and Peter grinned at Neal.

"What?" The consultant asked with raised eyebrows.

"Just savoring the moment," Peter said with a slightly mischievous grin. "It's not very often that I know something you don't."

"Well, savor it thoroughly," Neal advised him, rolling his eyes. "I don't see it happening again any time soon." Peter let out a low whistle.

"Did you hear that, El?" Peter inquired with a mock-surprised look. "That almost sounded like _pride_. And here we were both thinking you were so humble." Neal gave Peter a withering look and they all laughed.

Neal looked at Peter. "Maybe you never got over this _jaundice_ as a child," he said, affecting concern. He poked Peter in the forehead. "Doesn't he looked a little yellow to you, El?"

"Hm..." Elizabeth pretended to think. "Maybe a little. What do you think we should do?"

Neal shrugged, looking despondent. "I couldn't say. There may be no hope."

Peter rolled his eyes and started to say something. Neal shushed him.

"Save your strength," the young man advised. Elizabeth giggled and snapped her fingers.

"Wait, I know!" She exclaimed. "I'll be right back." She went into the kitchen and came back with a small box. "Maybe eating chocolate will help."

"Maybe," Peter said. He took a piece and smacked Neal's hand when Neal tried to take one.

"I don't see yellow skin on _you_," Peter said, waving the chocolate mockingly. Neal gave him a puppy-ish expression and Elizabeth smiled as her husband rolled his eyes.

"Go ahead, Neal," Elizabeth said. Neal's expression instantly brightened.

"Thank you!" The man said, taking a piece of the sweet confection. Elizabeth sat down and Peter groaned as Neal's grin widened.

"No, now we've given him sugar. He's going to act like a four-year-old for the rest of the day and I have to take him back to the office."

"I'm so sorry," Elizabeth said teasingly. "Just keep him away from the xerox machines this time."

"Thanks for the tip," Peter said drily. Neal sat perfectly still and affected an innocent expression.

"I can be good," he said.

"Yeah, whatever you say."


	11. Kill

_A/N: I finally got to watch Unfinished Business. I'm undecided on Sara so far. It was a good episode, I really loved it! Does anyone else feel they're sort of building up the air of invincibility, though? I dunno, my friend and I think so. But it was still amazing. So, this chapter is a bit different, and I don't know if you will like it, but I hope so! Review?_

_Neal Caffrey didn't want to kill anyone. He saw people who did and what it did to them and the messy, tragic aftermath of any death. He never wanted to cause that, or even be part of it. _

_But there was one time when he came close._

"Neal!"

"Kate! Kate, where are you?" His voice was holding back barely contained franticness as he ran.

"Back here!" Her voice held the same note of desperate, exhausted fear. He rounded the corner into an alley and found a sight he'd only seen in his nightmares. Kate was leaned against the dirty brick wall, her hand pressed against her side as blood poured out, her face deathly pale. Standing above her was a man with a gun, the one they'd been _working_ _with_ for the heist. The gun in his hand had a hard, unforgiving glint.

Neal reluctantly held a gun, too, that Kate had thrust hurriedly into his pocket before darting off to her meeting. She'd been there for exactly twenty minutes and thirty-one seconds before he'd gotten the phone call, saying the man was chasing her with a gun. Then the phone had cut and his heart had skipped a beat.

It had taken Neal fifteen minutes and eight seconds to find her.

And he was too late to prevent her from being hurt.

"Put down the gun," Neal said, only just resisting the urge to just run to Kate. That wouldn't help either of them.

"You first." The man's voice was slightly fearful. He kept the gun shakily trained on Neal, his stance inexperienced. Neal felt uncertainty flood through him. His eyes darted to Kate, her breathing labored as she fought to remain upright. She mouthed, _Just shoot him_.

His finger rested on the trigger, but he didn't squeeze it. He knew he would be able to kill the man first, everything about the way the guy was standing told him that. But he couldn't do it.

_It could mean Kate's life_, one side of him argued.

_But you don't have the right to take _his_ life away,_ the other said. In a split second Neal contemplated countless options. None of them ended well.

_Just shoot him_, Kate had mouthed. _Just shoot him_. But that wasn't him, it wasn't what he did. He created, he didn't destroy. Neal looked at the man one more time and his jaw tightened as Kate's breathless voice echoed in his ears.

He shot a half inch away from the man's head, startling him enough to drop the gun. Neal instantly grabbed the man and pulled his hands behind him, tying them with the man's necktie and pushing him down against the wall. The man stayed silent, looking half-relieved and slightly surprised. Neal shoved both of the guns away from them.

He instantly knelt down by Kate and tried to staunch the bleeding as he called Mozzie on the phone. He held onto her while they waited, his face buried in her hair.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. "I'm so sorry." He didn't know what he was sorry for. For letting her go alone, certainly, for allowing her to get shot. And for how close he'd gotten to completely leaving his moral boundaries. It had been so close. He'd almost done it. Maybe he didn't know himself as well as he thought.

Kate ended up being fine, as Mozzie was pretty good at locating _non-government_ doctors who didn't ask questions. But Neal was shaken. He'd almost lost her.

He'd almost lost himself.

_Neal Caffrey didn't want to kill anyone. _

_But he'd never forget the time he almost had. _


	12. Lollipop

_A/N: Thanks to all who have reviewed, favorited, or alerted this story. I appreciate it, guys!_

Neal had been sick all week. 

At first, Peter pretended not to notice. It was only a slight cold, after all, and Peter knew Neal preferred not to be made a big deal of in that respect. Then the slight cold turned into a slight cough, and the cough worsened. Peter didn't know how well his consultant was sleeping, either, as he always seemed to be concealing tiredness. He did a good job of it, Peter observed, as no one else seemed to notice a difference in him.

Still, in spite of his concern, Peter didn't mention it to Neal, wanting to at least give the ex-con the freedom to choose how to take care of himself. Neal seemed to be at least _okay_.

Or so Peter thought, until he walked into the mens' room one morning to see Neal doubled over one of the toilets.

_To heck with taking care of himself_, Peter decided as he helped Neal clean up, ignoring the protests.

"I'm taking you to the clinic, Neal," Peter told him. The dismay on Neal's face was nearly comical. More protests came flooding out.

There was the classic, "It must've been something I ate," and the almost-laughable, "I'm not really that sick, Peter, honestly."

"First of all," Peter said, "Yeah, you are _that sick_. And second, have you even _been _eating? Or sleeping?"

"Uhm..." Neal just shifted slightly.

"That's what I thought," Peter said with a nod. Helping Neal to stand from where he'd been sitting against the wall, his hand accidentally brushed Neal's forehead and he jerked it back.

"How long have you been running a fever for?" Peter demanded. He took Neal's arm and started leading him toward the car.

"About a day," Neal said hesitantly, looking slightly dizzy as he stood. "But none of it's bad enough to keep me from working." Peter cursed whoever had taught Neal his work ethic. Sometimes a person _needed_ to stop working and just rest.

"Yeah, it's a doctor for you. Cowboy up," he told Neal quietly as Neal continued to look unhappy. "It's a trip to the _doctor_, Caffrey, it won't kill you."

Twenty minutes and an endless stream of protests later, they were sitting in the waiting room of the doctors' office.

"Peter," Neal pleaded in a low voice, "I'll go home and rest, I'll drink _gallons_ of orange juice. I don't need a doc-" his plea was cut short as he erupted into a coughing fit. The cough was deep and seemed to cause Neal pain. Peter winced every time Neal did, and he put a hand on Neal's back until the cough stopped.

"Sorry, Neal," Peter said quietly. "I'm insisting this time."

"Mr. Caffrey? Doctor Walle can see you now." A red-headed nurse held a clipboard and Neal shot Peter a panicked glance. Peter knew Neal's fear of doctors and hospitals didn't quite rival Haversham's, but it was present nonetheless. He made a quick decision.

"Nurse... King?" Peter asked with a nod. "I'm Agent Peter Burke, FBI. This is my consultant. I've got to be with him at all times, federal guidelines. I hope that won't cause too much trouble."

The nurse looked surprised. "Oh. No, that will be fine. Right this way, Agent Burke." Peter helped Neal stand up and met Neal's eyes. They were filled with mixed surprise, confusion, and gratitude. Peter knew that _Neal_ knew that there really wasn't a guideline like that, as they were within Neal's two miles. But he could see the young man appreciated it still.

They followed the nurse into the back room and Peter caught side of a jar on the counter.

"If you're good, Neal, maybe they'll give you a lollipop," Peter said teasingly. Neal spared him a withering glare that was sort of ruined by the wince as he coughed again. It took about thirty minutes' worth of _doctor time_, but they discovered that Neal had pneumonia.

"I'm going to give you some antibiotics," the young male doctor said. "You seem to be in good health otherwise, so you should see marked improvement within about three days." He gave Peter a paper to pick up the prescription and nodded to Neal.

"Make sure he gets plenty of rest and fluids, and whatever food he can keep down," the doctor advised. "And he shouldn't go back to work for... a week, I'd say, and that is only if the symptoms are completely gone."

Neal looked slightly put out at this news, but remained silent as he had through most of the appointment.

"Thank you, Doctor," Peter said. "I'll make sure he's taken care of." On their way out of the office, the redheaded nurse handed Neal a lollipop with a teasing grin. He accepted it, rolling his eyes at Peter and thanking her.

"Okay, Neal," Peter said as they pulled up to June's house. "Do I need to come in and make sure you go rest, or can you do it yourself?" The consultant gave him a slightly sulky look.

"I can do it." He got out of the car and walked to the door, his pace a little shaky. Peter stuck his head out the car window.

"Behave yourself! I'll be checking in later!" He warned. Neal gave him a half-wave and stepped inside.

About two hours later, Peter returned to June's home with the antibiotics in one hand, and his wife's hand in the other.

"Hi, June," Elizabeth said warmly as they stepped inside. "Mind if we go up and see Neal?"

"Of course not," June said with a smile. "He should be awake, I was up there a few minutes ago."

"Thanks," Peter said. They walked up to Neal's loft and knocked.

"Come in," came a slightly muffled voice.

"Hey, Neal," Elizabeth said, setting down a container. "We brought you some chicken soup. How're you feeling?"

"Fine." Neal was sitting in bed wearing pajamas, holding a book in his lap.

"How are you _feeling_, Neal?" Elizabeth asked more sternly with a raised eyebrow. Neal sighed.

"Okay, I guess," he said. "Still tired, and my chest hurts, but the resting sort of helped."

Peter handed Neal the jar of pills. "You're supposed to take them with food twice a day," he said. "I'd _suggest_ eating something small and taking your first two now."

"Okay," Neal surrendered, recognizing the order. "I ate a roll a little while ago, so I think I'm good." He swallowed two of the pills with some water and set the glass back down. Peter glanced next to it and gave Neal a look.

"Oh, Neal, you didn't eat your lollipop," he said with fake surprise.

Neal made a face. "It's cherry flavored. I hate fake cherry flavoring. It tastes like cough syrup."

"You are such a child, you know that?" Peter said, half-teasingly, half-exasperatedly.

Neal stuck out his tongue.

Peter rolled his eyes. "Case in point..."

Elizabeth put a hand on Peter's arm and gave him a look. "We'll just be going now, Neal. Stay warm," she said, glancing at the thicker quilts at the end of the bed.

"I will," Neal said. He looked back and forth between Peter and Elizabeth, his amused expression replaced by gratitude. "Thanks."

"Don't mention it," Peter said nonchalantly. Elizabeth smiled.

"Just feel better, Neal," she said. Neal nodded.

"I'll certainly try." They left the room and Elizabeth looked at Peter with mock-sternness.

"What?" He asked with an innocent expression. His wife raised one eyebrow.

"You know what." She put her hand back in his, smiling slightly, and they walked back to the car.


	13. Mice

_A/N: I am so sorry, guys! I went out of town unexpectedly, but I'm back! Here's your new chapter, sorry it's a few days late. Little!Neal and Mozzie time!_

Mozzie picked up a box of pasta and cursed under his breath. He felt a gaze on the back of his neck and turned to see Neal looking at him curiously. 

"What's wrong?" He asked.

"Mice. Again." Mozzie held up the box as evidence, showing Neal the pasta spilling out of a chewed corner.

"Really?" Neal stood up and walked over, looking into the cabinet. "Hm."

"I gotta go to the store," Mozzie said, shoving on a hat and coat. "You stay here, okay?"

"Alright," Neal said with a shrug, returning to his former position. Mozzie left the youth reading some novel or other. He closed the door and started down the street in the crisp autumn air.

He returned less than twenty minutes later. As he opened the door to find blue eyes and a grin greeting him, he wondered once again why the youth had suddenly needed a "place to stay for a few days." Mozzie had his suspicions, but had not yet asked.

"That was quick," Neal observed. Mozzie nodded noncommittally and set the grocery sacks on the counter. Neal placed a bookmark in his novel (he would_ never _leave it lying spine-up) and stood. "What did you get?"

"Stuff," Mozzie said with his usual vagueness, beginning to remove a container of juice and some bread. Neal helped him put it away but froze when the last few items were removed.

"What are those for?" He asked, eyeing them dubiously.

"What do you _think_ they're for?" Mozzie asked with a raised eyebrow. "The mice."

"You're going to _kill_ them? With _those_?" Neal looked incredulous and disgusted.

"They're mice, Neal," Mozzie said flatly. "Pests. Not good for anything." Neal flinched as if Mozzie had struck him. There was a momentary flash of anger and pain in his eyes, but it was quickly brushed off as he gave Mozzie a bright, persuasive smile.

"I'll take care of it," Neal promised, lifting the traps from Mozzie's grasp and depositing them in the trash.

"Neal, I-"

"Just trust me." Something in his expression made Mozzie simply nod.

"Fine."

Neal beamed at him. "Thanks."

"I'm going to bed," Mozzie informed him with a slightly amused tint to his voice. "If your way hasn't worked by tomorrow, we're going back to plan A."

"Alright," Neal said, nodding his understanding. The way he agreed suggested he was certain that his way _would_ work. Mozzie went into the back room and laid down. He could hear Neal moving around in his usual, fairly quiet fashion. It was quite some time before the noises stopped, and Mozzie barely resisted the urge to go out and see what contraption the kid had come up with.

The next morning he got ready and went out to find Neal silently setting out two plates of toast and some juice. Mozzie looked at him with a raised eyebrow and Neal nodded with a bright smile.

"Over here there's three," he said, leading Mozzie to a deep pot. "There's another one over there with two." Neal had made a staircase of books going up to it, and had put a folded towel and what looked like some crackers inside. Curled on top of the towel were three sleeping mice. Mozzie looked up at Neal to see a slightly questioning look in his eyes. Mozzie ruffled Neal's hair in a way he'd figured out Neal disliked.

"Nice job," Mozzie said. Neal made a face as he moved his hair back into its normal position, but Mozzie could see the happiness shining in Neal's eyes from the praise. "Now what are you going to do with them?"

"I'll probably take them to that one corner of Central Park, with the thick bushes. It'll be more sheltered there when it snows."

Mozzie smiled slightly. "Good idea." Neal nodded happily. "Why don't we eat and then we can both go?"

"Sounds like fun," Neal said, sitting down at the counter.

"That was an interesting idea you came up with," Mozzie commented as he took a bite of toast, nodding to the pots.

"Wasn't originally mine," the young man said, his eyes softening. "My mom... she was just that kind of person."

Mozzie nodded his understanding, slightly surprised that Neal had mentioned his mother in casual conversation. "Still an interesting idea."

"Yep."

"Make sure you bring a coat to the park, it's cold."

"I will."


	14. No

_A/N: Hello Collars! I'm half-way to thirty today, so perhaps you could leave a review as a gift for me in my old age! :)_

"Morning, Peter," Neal said brightly, hopping into the Taurus. Peter just nodded. Neal leaned back in the seat and looked at his partner curiously. 

"Do we have a case?" He asked. Peter nodded again, pulling the car back onto the road. Neal frowned when the agent remained silent.

"...so, are you going to tell me about it?"

"No."

"Oh." Neal leaned back again, watching the road.

"Are we going to FBI headquarters?" He tried.

"No."

Neal let out a silent breath of frustration.

"Are we going to your house?"

"No."

"Is that the only word you're going to say to me today?"

"No."

"Fine." Neal ran a hand through his air. It was silly of him to get this frustrated, yes, but there it was. He _was _frustrated.

"Did I do something wrong?" Neal inquired.

"No." That was something, at least. He could've sworn he _almost_ heard a hint of humor in the agent's voice. That, or he was just projecting.

"Did _you_ do something wrong?"

"No."

Neal resisted the urge to roll his eyes as he examined the hem of his jacket for a moment.

"Is the case exciting?"

"No."

"Would you mind if I took a stroll down to the Met and stole a painting this afternoon?"

"No." Peter's answer had obviously become automatic, and Neal grinned.

"Really? Hm. Should be fun." Neal watched, amused, as Peter realized what had been said, and he gave Neal a withering look.

"Fine, fine, no theft," Neal said, raising one hand in defense. He shifted as Peter kept driving silently. "Did you lose a _dare _or something?"

"No." Peter pulled into a parking spot by the street and got out of the car. Neal got out after Peter did and hesitantly followed him into a small-ish building. It seemed completely empty, and they walked all the way through to the backyard. There were a good half-dozen people there, along with a couple of tables and chairs.

Elizabeth walked up to them and grinned. "So, did Peter spoil it?"

"No," Peter said in a long-suffering tone, smiling slightly.

"Spoil what?" Neal asked, insanely curious.

"The party," Elizabeth explained. "It's not a surprise party_ per se,_ but I still wanted it to be sort of a surprise."

"Party?" Neal repeated, tilting his head to one side slightly.

"Yes," Elizabeth said, smiling. "It's the one year anniversary of your partnership, so I thought we'd do something... special."

"Really?" Neal was surprised. He'd remembered the date, obviously, but he hadn't thought that anyone else would. "That's nice of you, Elizabeth. Thanks."

"It was my pleasure," she said. "Thank _you. _Now, enjoy yourself! You two both have the morning off, right?"

"No," Peter said with a nod.

"_Why_ is he doing that?" Neal asked, looking to Elizabeth curiously.

"He took me very literally." Elizabeth rolled her eyes. "Peter, dear, you can speak normally now, the secret is safe."

"Thank goodness," Peter said with a grin. "I thought I was going to be permanently stuck 'not telling anyone anything.' "

"And how did you get 'only use the word _no' _from _that_?" Neal asked, raising one eyebrow.

Peter shrugged, still smiling brightly.

"Uh huh." Neal looked at him flatly, then smiled. "Well, everything looks really nice, Elizabeth."

"Thank you," Elizabeth said appreciatively. They spoke with the few friends they had present, eating some of the delicious food Elizabeth had gotten. When everyone else was gone, they were left standing near the small gazebo in the middle, Elizabeth with her head on Peter's shoulder. She lifted it and smiled at Neal.

"It's been good to have you with us this past year," she told him with a happy smile. His eyes softened slightly, sincerely touched.

"It's been good to be here," he said.

"You've really been a good addition to the Division, too," she continued, nodding. She looked up at her husband. "Don't you agree, Peter?"

Peter was silent for a moment, regarding Neal with something akin to fatherly affection in his eyes. Then a slow, teasing smile spread across his face. "No."

Elizabeth swatted him playfully on the arm and rolled her eyes at Neal. "Don't mind him, he's just being difficult."

"Don't worry, Elizabeth, I have experience with his stubbornness," Neal said, nodding with mock-sympathy. "I mean, he chased me for _three years_."

"That he did," Elizabeth agreed, leaning her head back on her husband's shoulder with a contented smile. "And may I say, as much as I disliked it then, I'm honestly glad now that he did."

"Me too," Neal said. He heard the words spoken at the same time from next to him and looked at Peter curiously. Peter looked back.

"Did you say something?" Neal asked, tilting his head slightly to one side.

Peter just smiled and shrugged. "No."


	15. Obvious

Diana brushed her hair out of her eyes and glanced up from her paperwork. Immediately her gaze was captured by a pair of pleading, bright blue eyes. 

_Help me__,_ Neal mouthed from Peter's office.

_Bored?_

Neal nodded minutely. _Very_.

Diana smiled sympathetically and shrugged. Neal increased his begging expression, then jumped as Peter apparently noticed his lack of attention, turning back to face him.

With a discontented sigh, Diana surveyed the work in front of her and rifled through it until she found a thick, troublesome-looking file. She stood, straightening her jacket, and walked up the stairs to Peter's office.

"Agent Burke?" She asked, knocking on the door before opening it. "I've got an analysis here that's giving me some trouble, do you think I could borrow Neal for a little while?" She didn't glance at Neal, trying to maintain a professional exterior. Peter raised an eyebrow curiously.

"As long as you return him in one piece," Peter said. "I may need his devious mind later." Neal feigned shock.

"Devious? _Me_?"

"Yes, you," Peter said drily, giving him a look that said _Behave, or else._ Neal responded with an innocent grin and quickly exited Peter's office before the agent could change his mind. Diana grinned at his obvious relief.

"Thanks," he said, smiling appreciatively. "Honestly, I thought I was seriously wondering if dying of boredom was actually possible. He drones on about some mortgage fraud case and hands me a stack of files that could probably rival the eiffel tower, then expects me to come to a conclusion about it all." He rolled his eyes lightly, eliciting a laugh from her. "With my _devious _mind."

"Can you blame him for saying it?" Diana asked. "Remember the... incident last week?"

"What incident?" Neal asked brightly. "All I remember was a slight machinery malfunction."

"Sure_,_" Diana allowed, rolling her eyes in imitation of him. "You can pass that one off as a _malfunction_. But what about the coffee thing? That was definitely your devious mind at work."

Neal shrugged. "Maybe I hadn't made coffee in a long time."

Diana looked at him flatly. "Whatever you say. Well, time to brush up your skills. The pot is empty, and we can't have that."

"Oh, we can't?" Neal quirked one eyebrow.

"No," Diana said seriously. "All these hard-working mortgage fraud investigators need their caffeine."

"Especially Agent Monotone," Neal said, nodding with equal seriousness. Diana smirked. 

"Right." She glanced at the file in her hand while Neal made a new pot of coffee. The office pot always tasted better after he used it, which really made his "excuse" that much weaker.

"Here you go, on the house." Neal handed her a steaming mug of coffee.

"Thanks," she said drily, putting the file down to take it. "I sure appreciate the thought."

"Just for you," Neal said, smiling charmingly at her. She sipped it and watched as Neal added some strange mix of creamers to his.

"Do that to mine," Diana requested. "...Please."

"Thanks for the _please_," Neal said with a slightly exasperated look. "I do owe you one, though, don't I?" He took the coffee and gave it the same treatment.

"Yeah, kind of." Diana took the modified coffee and raised her eyebrows. "Hm, this is good."

"Good," Neal said, smiling. They chatted quietly and drank intermittently. Neal took a large sallow and almost choked on it as Peter suddenly appeared at his shoulder.

"Difficult file, huh?" Peter asked with an unreadable expression. Neal jumped and swallowed, spinning around guiltily.

"We were just... getting some extra energy to tackle it?" Neal suggested.

"Nice try," Peter said, shaking his head at Neal. "But no. Finish your... whatever that is, then come back to the office." He raised an eyebrow at Diana, who blushed slightly.

Neal nodded and watched the agent walk away slowly.

"You got the look," Neal said in a quiet, gleeful voice. "He actually gave it to someone _other_ than me! You were actually in trouble for something!"

"Thank you, Captain Obvious," Diana said drily. "That makes me feel so much better."

"Oh... Sorry." Neal grinned apologetically.

"It's okay," Diana said. "At least _I_ didn't get the head shake."

"Hm. _The look_ versus a head shake."

"A deep debate for another time." Peter apparently hadn't actually gone back to his office. He snatched Neal's now-empty coffee mug, putting it in the sink, and led the consultant back to the office. Diana followed somewhat guiltily, and a hint of conversation floated down to her.

"...well, _Captain Obvious,_ next time your little Pranking/Ditching meeting involves coffee, I'll crash it."

"You're very welcome to attend. Only I don't know where you're getting the Pranking part from," Neal said innocently.

"Mhm. Well, use some of your creative energy to find a solution here."

"Oh, fine," Neal said. They went back into the glass office and Diana held back a laugh, sitting down at her desk again. She glanced up to see Neal gesturing animatedly about something and grinned to herself.

Neal was certainly _entertaining_ when he was bored.


	16. Popcorn

"Remind me again, where are we going?" Peter asked his wife, glancing over to the passenger seat momentarily. 

"For the _fourth_ time," Elizabeth said, smiling, "to a movie I won tickets for."

"Right," Peter said, drawing out the word. "And we're bringing Neal _why_?"

"Because." Elizabeth gave him a slightly sharp look. "We have_ three_ tickets _and_ I want him to come."

"Alright..." Peter said, slightly disgruntled.

Elizabeth shrugged and gave him another smile. Peter pulled up to June's house and, sure enough, Neal was sitting on the stone fence, his figure illuminated slightly by the sunset.

"Hey," the young man greeted as he climbed into the backseat. "Thanks for inviting me to come, I hope I'm not going to be a third wheel or anything."

Peter rolled his eyes slightly, amused. Elizabeth shook her head. "Not at all, we're glad to have you."

Neal flashed her a grin and leaned back in the seat. "What are we going to see?"

Elizabeth smiled. "It's a surprise."

"Okay," Neal said slowly. They continued driving and pulled up to the theater within a few minutes.

"Hello," Elizabeth said with a friendly smile, nodding to the employee standing behind a counter. "Which way to theater two?"

"Take the third door on the left."

"Thank you!"

They walked to the concession line and Peter and Elizabeth both got popcorn and soda. Neal got a water.

"You don't want popcorn, Neal?" Elizabeth asked curiously. Neal shook his head with a faintly nauseated expression.

"No. I sort of hate it."

"How can you hate _popcorn_?" Peter asked, eating a piece. They sat down in the theater, Elizabeth between the two men; only a paid advertisement for the theater system was playing.

"Very easily."

"Uh huh." Peter gave him a curious look.

"I was just getting over stomach flu as a kid and I ate a bunch of it." Neal winced. "Yeah, never been able to eat it since. I can handle the smell, mostly, but not the taste."

"That's no fun," Elizabeth said sympathetically. "My sister had a similar experience with Skittles."

"Shhh," a college-aged kid said from behind them as the lights dimmed and previews started. Peter looked around the theater, rolling his eyes.

The movie started and Peter lost interest after the first twenty minutes, staring at the seat in front of him and thinking about the case he was working on instead.

After it ended, they walked out. Neal held the door open for several girls with a polite smile, causing them to giggle. Elizabeth linked arms with her husband.

"So what did you think?" She asked curiously.

"I liked it," Neal said. "The plot was a bit predictable, but the characters were solid."

Elizabeth looked to Peter and he smiled sheepishly. "It was fine."

"You didn't even really watch it, did you?"

Peter coughed, then changed the subject, looking at Neal.

"So I _shouldn't_ give you copious amounts of popcorn for your birthday, then?" He asked.

"Probably not," Neal said, rolling his eyes.

"Aw, there go all my plans."

"I'm so sorry."


	17. Queen

_A/N: *dejected sigh* Curse my busy schedule. I didn't get to post yesterday, and I still haven't watched Psych, Royal Pains, or, most importantly, White Collar. Sad day. Well, thank you everyone for your reviews, I hope you enjoy! Enter, Kate Moreau!_

Kate Moreau lifted her bag higher onto her shoulder, pushing open the kitchen door. 

Neal and Mozzie looked up curiously from whatever they'd been working on.

"I got it," Kate said with a slight smirk, setting it down on the counter. "What are you two working on?"

"Well..." Neal looked at her slightly sheepishly. She glanced at the table and saw cards spread across the folders.

Irritation flooded through Kate. "Really, guys?"

"We _were_ working on the plans," Mozzie said with a raised eyebrow. He, at least, never hesitated to challenge her. "But, _eventually_, you have to take a break."

"Right," Kate said flatly. She brushed the cards aside and tapped the top folder. "How far did you get?"

"About half-way through," Neal said. He put the cards back into a deck and replaced the rubber band around it.

"Are you _sure_ this is a good idea?" Mozzie asked, fiddling with his glasses. Neal shot him a look and Kate knew in that instant that they had discussed it while she'd been gone. That was not what she needed. She frowned briefly before nodding slightly, the picture of confidence.

"Positive. We have everything we need, all we have to do now is complete the plan."

"Right," Neal said, agreeing with her as he almost always did. Kate nodded approvingly and sat down next to Neal, leaning her head on his shoulder. She let the exhaustion of the day wash over her briefly before brushing it away and guiding them through the plan so far.

Once they had completed it and run through it once, Mozzie insisted on coffee and another break. Kate consented reluctantly, knowing that fighting Mozzie on this would be difficult.

"So, could you show me that trick again?" The balding man asked Neal. Neal nodded with a grin.

"Of course." Neal grinned and shuffled the cards. He spread them out and Mozzie picked one out of the deck at random. Mozzie looked at it briefly then put it back, watching Neal intently. Neal shuffled the deck quite thoroughly and made a show of laying them into columns. He picked up one and showed it to Mozzie.

"This your card?" He asked gallantly.

"Yes," Mozzie said, disgruntled that he still couldn't find the trick. Neal flipped the card on the table, beaming. It was a queen of hearts.


	18. Resist

_A/N: So, explanation required. The prompt word _is_ in this. Once. Sometimes I read the word and just one sentence flashes into my mind and I write a story around it. Like here. This one is different; a little depressing. Let me know what you think. The last line is oddly fitting, as today I begin the first of my three years of high school. We'll see how that goes._

Neal Caffrey held onto both sides of the small silver sink in his cell, hands shaking slightly. Resolutely not looking at the clock. Not glancing at the calendar. 

_One year._

He closed his eyes. He had to resist the urge to collapse.

_One year since he'd held Kate._

He heard the sounds of lights being flicked off in the distance and knew that it was getting late. As it had been when he'd been arrested.

_One year since he'd heard the sounds, seen the sights, felt the air of New York City._

Neal released the sink and sat down on the cot, keeping his breathing steady. Images flashed through his mind; Kate, Mozzie, Agent Burke. He ached with longing to see the first two, and felt a twinge of resentment for the third.

_One year since the game of cat-and-mouse had ended. _

Still, he didn't feel as angry as he'd thought he would. Just... hollow, shut away, and horribly lonely.

_One year since he'd had a conversation that wasn't monitored and timed._

The sharp footsteps of the guard echoed toward him and leaned back as he faked nonchalance."Lights out," the guard snapped. This particular guard was unpleasant, meaning that many of his precious few social interactions were unpleasant.

_One year since he'd had the freedom to govern his own actions._

The guard moved on and Neal picked up a red crayon with still-trembling hands and marked another line. He flicked off the light and laid down on the hard prison cot, staring at the cold, white ceiling.

_One year since his life had been changed forever._

_Three years to go. _


	19. Steve

_A/N: I FINALLY got to watch "In the Red!" It was sooo good, oh my gosh. I loved it. And last night's was AMAZING. I love Mozzie, he's so sweet, and I'm glad El's back from her 'trip.' Ah, we have another sort of sad one. The next one is cute though. Please enjoy!_

Neal Caffrey let out a breath as he walked into his rented apartment. It had been a long, stressful day, and he was glad it was over.

Terra was safe, Ghovat was in custody. Neal was finally home. After showering and changing into sweats, he sat down on the edge of his bed and ran a hand through his hair.

He'd done a lot of improv, as he'd advised Peter to do the night before. Knocking on the surveillance van, calling Ghovat to jam the phone.

_"Hey, is this Steve? What's up, buddy? You never call."_

Running after Ghovat to get the dress.

_"Hey, Steve!"_

But then Ghovat had pulled a gun.

_"What now?"_

And you couldn't charm a gun, even if you were Neal Caffrey. You couldn't improvise if you'd been shot through the chest.

Honestly, if Lauren hadn't showed up when she had, Neal didn't know what he would have done. As nonchalant and cheerful as his remarks to Peter had been, the experience had unsettled him.

He didn't like not having options. Not being able to wing it and change plans as things played out. That was what he thrived on, the knowledge that he could always get himself out or manipulate the situation.

Without that ability, he didn't know what to do.

He _hated _having his freedom taken away. More so than it already was, at least, with the tracking anklet and constant scrutiny.

Neal switched off his lamp and laid down, trying to keep his mind blank.

But he kept seeing the dark barrel of the gun. _Now what?_

He didn't sleep much that night.


	20. Treat

_A/N: Yay, finally, a cute one! I'm not sure if I wrote his mom well, so drop me a line to let me know. Also, who totally LOVES Mozzie even more than they already did after the last couple episodes? *grin*_

Neal looked at the driveway, peered through the window, and breathed a sigh of relief. The TV was off and the junky car was gone, and so was his father. He opened the door with a smile. 

"I'm home, Mom!" He declared to the nearly silent house.

"I'm back here," the response echoed from the back room. Neal smiled slightly and removed his shoes, walking toward his mother's room quietly.

"Hi, sweetheart," Nicole Caffrey said, opening her arms. Neal set down his backpack next to the wall and jetted toward her, slowing rapidly just before he touched her. He wrapped his arms around her gently and felt contentment flood through him as she wove her warm, slightly shaky hand through his hair.

They remained that way silently for a moment before Nicole pulled back and looked at him with a gentle smile, one hand on his shoulder.

"How was your day?" She asked.

"It was great!" Neal said with a smile, not quite being honest but not wanting to worry her. "I passed my math test and my handwriting test."

"Good job, honey," Nicole said, affection shining in her eyes. "I'm proud of you." Neal flushed slightly, beaming at her.

"Thanks," he said. He moved to sit next to her on the bed and she smiled down at him.

"Well, that works out perfectly. I had a special treat for you. Now it can double as a reward, too."

Neal looked up at her, a mixture of curiosity and excitement filling him. "Really?" He felt hesitant. He didn't want her getting tired from doing too much. "You didn't have to do that, though, Mom."

"But I wanted to," Nicole said pointedly, smiling. "It's out on the porch, I figured we could spend some time outside since it's so nice."

"Alright," Neal agreed, returning her smile. She stood with effort, and he grabbed her hand to help support her. They walked toward the porch.

"Close your eyes," Nicole directed Neal, hands on his shoulders. Neal did as he was told. He felt her hands still trembling slightly and a twinge of worry shot through him. He shook it off as they went through the doorway, warm sunlight touching their skin. They stopped, and Neal waited silently.

"Okay, you can open them," Nicole said with a smile in her voice. Neal's eyes flew open and his face broke into a grin.

"Oh, thanks, Mom!" He exclaimed. He touched the two easels and paints and other art supplies with near reverence. He'd never been able to use much more than crayons and paper scraps outside of art class in school. "Where did you get these?"

"They were all from my college art class," Nicole said, watching him with a soft smile. "I found them in the basement when I was cleaning."

Neal bit back a stream of protests he knew she didn't want to hear. He turned toward her and his expression was eager and questioning. "Can we use them?"

"Of course," Nicole said, nodding. Neal waited for her to step forward. They both pulled on old college-monogrammed t-shirts over their clothing and Nicole tied her dark hair back.

"What do you want to paint?" Neal asked, scooting over a stool so he could reach better.

"You choose," Nicole said. Neal thought deeply for a moment, then he smiled.

"How 'bout we both paint the yard, and we compare them. My teacher said that shows different per-spectives." Neal waited anxiously to see if his idea would be accepted.

"That sounds like a wonderful idea," Nicole said with a smile. Neal felt that same rush of contentment as he dipped his paintbrush into some dark green and swirled it on the canvas, reveling in the quiet, peaceful atmosphere and the smell of paint.

"That looks nice," Nicole murmured over his shoulder. Neal looked at her with a slight, mock-exasperated smile, stopping the process of mixing shades.

"Mom! We can't _peek_ at each others'. We have to wait 'till the end."

"Oh, right," Nicole said with a hint of sheepishness. "Sorry."

"It's okay," Neal said easily, slipping back into the quiet world which held only him and his breathing and the paint and scene. At least an hour passed this way, in peaceful silence with a few brief comments.

"Alright," Nicole whispered finally, looking over at Neal. Neal looked back at his mother, smiling at the blue and gray paint smudges on her face. "Are you ready?"

"Yes," Neal said with a smile. "Okay, on three, then."

"One, two, three." Nicole turned hers toward Neal and Neal turned his toward her. A short gasp came from Nicole as she surveyed Neal's. Neal looked at his mother's with great affection. It reflected her personality, all warmth and serenity in spite of the rather dreary actuality of the yard.

"Neal, this is amazing," Nicole said, beaming at him. "I mean, I knew you were a good artist, but this is _fantastic._" Neal looked at the painting with a critical eye, feeling warmth spread through his cheeks. He wasn't sure if he'd done well or not.

He'd added in some flower bushes or animals where he thought it looked too gray. Along with that, he'd also modified the fence's pattern slightly to look prettier and more inviting. The shading was off, he could see that, and the shades themselves weren't mixed to his satisfaction.

"I don't know," Neal said with a hesitant shrug, his cheeks still warm.

"It's great, Neal," Nicole said firmly. "Perfect."

"Thanks, Mom," Neal whispered, ashamed of the tightening in his chest and throat. His mother sat down on the bench and pulled him into her lap, paint and all.

"You're welcome, sweetheart," Nicole said. They leaned against one another in the warm sunlight, contentedly listening and watching.


	21. Ukelele

_A/N: Thanks for all the positive feedback last chapter, everyone! :) I really love to read all your reviews. _

"Happy birthday, Peter," Elizabeth said with a smile, handing her husband a small wrapped package. 

"Thanks, El," Peter replied with a smile. He unwrapped it and pulled out a nice brown wallet. His own had been very worn out, but he'd never said anything. Elizabeth had noticed anyway, and figured he could use a new one.

Peter leaned forward and planted a kiss on her mouth.

"You like it?" She asked, moving closer to him and leaning her head on his shoulder.

"Yeah. It's perfect." Peter smiled. Elizabeth let out a contented sigh.

"It's nice to have you home," she murmured. He'd been busier than normal lately, and it was hard to have him gone so much.

"It's nice to be here." Peter closed his eyes and leaned his head against Elizabeth's. She nodded minutely, holding his hand in both of hers. The quiet lasted about two minutes before a knock came at the door.

"Who do you think that is?" Peter muttered rhetorically, rolling his eyes. "Come in, Neal," he called.

"Thanks." Neal opened the door and stepped inside with a grin. "You two look cozy." Peter shot him a look.

"Morning, Neal," Elizabeth said.

"Good morning, _Elizabeth_." Neal raised one eyebrow at Peter in mock-reprimand.

"Fine, good morning Neal."

"Good morning, Peter," Neal said cheerfully. He held up a long package and smiled. "Happy birthday. This time I can give you more than a card."

"Thanks," Peter said. Elizabeth watched him pretend to eye the gift suspiciously and shake it before she elbowed him, restraining laughed. Peter ripped off the pale blue paper.

"I accidentally made you lose one, once," Neal said as Peter lifted the lid off the box. "So I thought I'd replace it."

"I never had a ukulele," Peter said confusedly as he peered inside.

"A ukulele?" Neal leaned over and raised his eyebrows. "Oh."

Peter picked it up and feigned a big, goofy grin as he plucked one string.

"It was supposed to be an umbrella."

"Nice of you to remember that," Peter said. Elizabeth grinned as she remembered the story. "I liked that umbrella."

"I can exchange it," Neal offered, looking concerned. Elizabeth knew he wanted Peter to like whatever Neal gave him.

"Nah, I like it," Peter said, setting it down with a little pat. Elizabeth smiled at Neal.

"You did everyone a favor, anyway, making him lose that thing," she said. "It was awful."

"Hey!" Peter protested.

"It was pretty hideous," Neal agreed with a mock-serious nod. Elizabeth grabbed Peter and Neal's hands and led them to the table.

"I made a cake, I want you both to try it. It's a new recipe."

"Sounds good!" Neal said.

"Thanks," Peter said. Elizabeth nodded with a smile and brought out the chocolatey cake.

They ate and chattered for a while, then Neal said he had to go meet up with June.

"Thanks for coming, Neal," Elizabeth said. Peter nodded slightly.

"Yep," Neal said, grinning. "Happy birthday, Peter."

"Thanks." Peter smiled slightly. Elizabeth laughed slightly after Neal left. Peter lifted up the ukulele and smiled at it.

"It was nice of him," she said. Peter nodded and put it up on the mantle, leaning against the wall.

"It was."


	22. Valentine

_A/N: Aw, this one is cute too. So, for those of you who haven't read my fic Frozen Out, one of the characters from that makes a reappearance here. She was a nurse in the hospital Neal was in, and since he was there for a while they became friends. In my sort of alternate universe thing I have going, they're dating now. ^^ Enjoy!_

Neal Caffrey stretched as he awoke. He'd needed the extra sleep he'd gotten, and was grateful he hadn't had to go to work. He yawned slightly, glancing at the large, old-fashioned calendar on his wall. Seeing the date, he let out a sharp breath and rolled back over, closing his eyes. Images flickered across the backs of his eyelids a flash of pain accompanied them. It was February 14th; Valentine's Day. It was the fourth in a year of particularly painful ones. 

The first three had occurred while he was in prison. Kate never failed to visit on those days, to give to him small words of comfort and he to her, but they really hadn't helped. It had felt so wrong, to have his hand pressed against hers through a half-inch of plexiglass while pictures of quiet, close evenings and gifts and kisses were hanging in the peripheries of their minds.

They wished one another a happy holiday while memories of much happier ones were privately put away to avoid worsening the pain. After her visits ended, he'd always be left alone in the cold silence of the prison cell, wanting nothing more than to be out in the world with her. It had been excruciating to sit on the hard cot by himself and try not to think of the remaining days until that could be possible.

This was, in some ways, very much worse. He shrugged off the warmth of the blanket and stood. Cold rushed onto him and he pulled out a book from his shelf. Opening it slowly and pulling a small box out of the space where pages had been cut out, he sat back on the edge of the bed. Quietly, he pulled out several photographs of Kate; the only ones he had left with him. He gently held the edges and sighed. Guilt and pain flooded through him and he closed his eyes for a moment.

"I love you, Kate," he murmured. "I promise, I'll always love you. And... I miss you." After a moment of quiet, he replaced them in the box and carefully put the book back on the shelf. He slowly made his way to the bathroom. Under the hot shower water, some of the tenseness left his shoulders. Yes, this particular Valentine's Day was worse in some ways, but in others it was better. He _had_ lost Kate, and shards of pain from that would be embedded in his chest from that; days like today, when her absence was that much more jarring, twisted them and dug them in deeper.

But he wasn't alone. Unlike before, when he'd had a moment of company then nothing but empty silence, he had people on his side who he cared about. Peter, Elizabeth, Mozzie, June, even Jones and Diana. And he had Miranda.

She was the main thing that made the day more bearable. She made the pain lessen and sometimes almost disappear entirely. He smiled slightly when he pictured her face in his mind. As he finished his shower and began dressing, he glanced at the time. He had about an hour before he was going to pick her up for lunch.

He was just finished straightening his tie when he felt a tap on his shoulder and jumped slightly. 

"I can't believe I actually got you that time," a soft, delighted voice said. Neal turned around with a smile on his face.

"I thought I was picking _you_ up," he teased.

"I wanted to surprise you."

"Well, you did," Neal said. "It's good to see you."

"You too," Miranda said. "I missed you this past week."

"I'm sorry I was so busy," Neal said. He slipped a few things into his pockets from the dresser and she linked arms with him.

"That's okay. It makes today that much more special. What should we do first?"

"First," Neal said, picking up a small pink and silver package, "I need to give you this." He handed it to her and watched with an excited smile as she opened it. For a moment she was silent, then she threw her arms around him.

"Thank you!" She cried. "Neal, how did you get this? They've been sold out for months!" Neal smiled, kissing the top of her head.

"A magician never reveals his secrets," he said teasingly. In truth, he had gotten the ticket- which was for a prestigious medical seminar- from a very grateful, very wealthy woman they'd recovered a painting for the week previously. "I'm glad you like it."

"I love it. It's so sweet of you to remember that I wanted to go." She grinned. "Oh! I have a present for you, too." She took out a small, rectangular box and handed it to him, clasping her hands together. Neal untied the red ribbon and pulled out a small, detailed model of the Eiffel tower. "I- I remembered that you said that you'd spent some of your happiest times in Paris, so I thought that would remind you of them." Neal felt his throat tighten slightly and Miranda looked distraught.

"Oh, you hate it," she said. "I'm sorry, I-"

Neal cut her off, eyes shining. "No, it's perfect," he said, closing his fist around it and smiling at her. "Perfect."

"I'm glad," she said, relieved. She twirled one piece of her blonde hair nervously. "Neal, I know today must be hard for you, and I just wanted to say that if you need to talk, or you need some space, or anything, I'm here for you." Neal smiled softly.

"Thank you, Miranda," he said quietly. He leaned down slightly and kissed her tenderly, his hand still enclosed around the Eiffel tower.


	23. Washington

_A/N: Hey guys, I'm so sorry it took me so long to get on and post this. I've been so busy the past few days. I can't believe there's only one episode left before the break! It's going to kill me... But last week's was SO amazing! I was so giddy because one of the guest characters had my name and so they all said it! It was sort of pathetic how excited that made me, but oh well. I hope you like this one. :)_

Diana Barrigan brushed her long hair out of her face as she hailed a cab. 

"Where to?" The driver asked.

"FBI headquarters," she said, pulling herself inside. The words were no longer as pleasant as they had once been. She looked out the window at the streets of Washington DC, trying not to compare it to the electric, constant motion of the city she missed. New York had been good for her, and she hadn't liked the reassignment she'd gotten.

"Thanks," she said as the bright yellow taxi pulled up, paying the driver. She straightened her suit and walked up to the floor she worked on.

"Morning, Agent Barrigan," one man said. Again, she mentally compared it to the friendly mess of greetings and banter she received in the White Collar Crime Unit.

"Good morning," she replied. She sat down at her desk and started on the hideously large stack of paperwork she'd been given.

Another thing that was wildly different about her job in DC.

_Stop it_, she chided herself. _You have a good thing here._

_But not a _great_ one, _the other part of her mind countered. _Not like before._

_No. Make it work. _

She tried to do so, she really did. She pretended not to be bothered by the stark contrast between the stiff partnerships here, and the easy, friendly relationships back home. No, back in _New York._

After a while, things became easier and almost nice in the Washington division of the FBI.

But she couldn't pretend she wasn't thrilled when Peter called, requesting her assistance. She helped him with his case and when it was over, returning to DC sounded just... unappealing.

You don't have to stay, the insistent part of her mind said. This time she listened. She talked to Christy and put in her transfer request papers.

The first day back in New York, she walked in to see Peter and Jones waiting for her.

"Good morning, Diana," Jones said.

"Morning, Clinton, morning, Peter." She grinned at them and set her stuff back on her desk. "Anything interesting going on?"

"Besides you being back, you mean?" Jones asked with a teasing grin. "Yeah, actually."

"We have a case," Peter explained. "We're meeting a suspect in twenty, so that'll give you time to get situated again."

"Thanks, boss," she said. He nodded.

"Good to have you back," he said.

"It's good to be back," Diana replied. She sat down at her desk, putting her things away, and looked around with a contented sigh.

Yeah, Washington was nice.

But New York was better.


	24. Xerox

_A/N: And here we have it... the long-awaited Xerox incident. :) I actually didn't realize that this was one of my words until I got here, but I'd referenced an event with a xerox machine previously, so it worked out nicely. Enjoy!_

Neal walked back up to Peter's office, silently wishing that they could just find a case and stop sitting around for hours on end.

"I need three copies of this, too," Peter said as Neal set a stack of fresh copies on the desk.

"Really?" Neal asked, a hint of exasperation peeking through his smile. It was the third trip he'd made to the xerox machine that morning.

"Sorry," Peter said half-absently. "But they're all in different places."

"It's okay," Neal said, shaking his head with a pleasant shrug. He took the single sheet of paper from Peter and started back to the copy room. The fact that it was _one _piece of paper made it feel that much less necessary.

_There are worse things than being copy boy for a day,_ he reminded himself. It was true. But this was still more-than-slightly annoying.

"More copies?" Diana asked sympathetically as he passed.

"Yep," Neal said, waving the oh-so-important sheet of paper impressively.

"I remember those days," she said, nodding, then smirked deviously. "Luckily he has you for that now."

"I still don't get why the clerks don't do it," Neal complained with a slight smile. "I'm beginning to wonder if they're just some sort of myth. _I've _never seen one of them."

"In time you will learn all," Diana said mystically.

"Thanks," Neal said drily, grinning at her as he made his way to the xerox machine. He set the paper on and punched in the number. As the copy started, he wandered over to the wall of files and picked one up, reading through it boredly. On about page twenty, he realized the copies still hadn't stopped.

He walked back over to the machine and looked in the tray. "Crap." It had plowed through all the papers but a few sheets. The number on the control read _300_. "Oh, Peter is just going to love this." He hit the stop button but it had already sucked in the last piece.

With a sigh, he considered his options. He could, A) recycle the papers and pretend nothing had happened, or B) bring them all to Peter.

He decided Peter needed some excitement in his morning.

"What took you so long?" Peter inquired, not looking up. Neal dropped the stack of copies on the desk and Peter started, taking one look at the copy and looking at Neal with confusion.

"Neal?"

"Peter."

"Diana," Diana said as she walked in, holding two mugs of coffee. "Oh, Neal, you've finally emerged." She looked at the desk. "What's with the novel?"

"I was just asking him that," Peter said. He raised an eyebrow at the consultant. "So?"

"So, what? You asked for these, didn't you?"

"No, I asked for _three copies__. _How many is this?"

"Three hundred."

"Caffrey!" Peter rolled his eyes, exasperated. "You didn't even stop to wonder why I would need three hundred copies of one piece of paper?"

"I only do as I'm told," Neal said meekly. Diana let out one small burst of laughter and almost dropped the coffee. Neal took it from her and set it on Peter's desk.

"Whatever," Peter said flatly. Neal was delighted to see him fighting back a grin. The agent picked off three pieces of paper plus the original, hitting the remaining stack with his hand. "You. Recycling bin. Now."

"Yes, sir," Neal said, the humble expression still in place. He picked up the papers with a respectful nod to them both and walked out, closing the door.

He was on the stairs when he heard the muted laughter through the glass. Tossing the papers into the recycle bin, he grinned to himself. _Mission accomplished._


	25. Yell

_"I'm afraid we have some bad news."_ The voice of their prime suspect came over the speaker from the wire, addressing Neal. 

_"What do you mean, Sir?"_ Neal asked politely. Peter cursed under his breath.

"Get out of there, Caffrey," he muttered. "C'mon, I know you know something's off."

But Neal didn't heed the unheard advice.

_"Well, we have discovered some... discrepancies in your story, Mr Ellis,"_ Davids said. _"Or rather, Mr Caffrey."_

Peter swore again. "His cover's blown," he said over the radio, standing up and preparing to leave. Several things then happened in rapid succession.

"Copy, Agent Burke," the team waiting outside said. "Do we go in?"

_"I can explain,"_ Neal said over the radio at the same time, a hint of fear behind his placating tone.

_"No more lies,"_ Davids hissed. There was the sound of a gun cocking.

"Yes," Peter shouted. "Get in there now!" He opened the van doors and a gunshot echoed from the speaker and the building. His heart skipped a beat. _Neal. _

Peter burst out of the van and ran toward the building, seeing with slight comfort that the police were already getting up there.

"Neal!" He called.

"In here," came the slightly weak response. Peter came into the room to see Davids and his assistant being cuffed. His eyes darted to the wall and his shoulders practically sagged with relief. Neal was there, sitting on the floor with his head against the wall and his eyes closed, slightly pale but largely unharmed.

"You alright?" Peter asked. Neal nodded slightly and Peter offered the conman a hand and helped him to his feet. Once Neal was standing, Peter's gaze was caught by a bullet embedded centimeters from where the consultant's head was. His jaw clenched and anger filled him.

"Are you guys okay from here?" Peter looked to the nearest man. He nodded.

"Yeah, we got it," he said.

"Nice work," another officer added to Neal.

"You, too," Neal said, flashing a smile. A third man clapped Neal on the shoulder. Peter nodded to them and carefully whisked Neal away before he could get caught up in the post-op congratulations fest. He was happy to see people outside the bureau appreciating Neal for once, but he and the consultant had things to discuss.

Silently, Peter got into the surveillance van and waited for Neal to do the same. Staring the ignition, Peter glanced over to see Neal's hands shake minutely as he fastened his seatbelt; his anger deepened.

"What is _wrong_ with you, Caffrey?" Peter growled.

"What?" Neal looked over, confusion written across his face, still slightly pale.

"You don't even get it, do you?" Peter turned a corner, exasperated.

"Get what?"

"You didn't follow my directions to get out at the first sign of trouble, Caffrey, and you almost died because of it," Peter's voice raised in volume until he was shouting. Neal winced slightly, but his tone was defensive and placating in one breath.

"It didn't seem like it was going to go downhill that fast," Neal said evenly. "I didn't want to jeopardize your op after all the effort you put into it." Peter glanced at him again and he felt frustration pour through him as he saw Neal's earnest expression.

"Are you really that stupid?" Peter demanded harshly. "Do you really think the op is more important than your life?" His hands clenched on the steering wheel.

"I don't know," Neal admitted in a quiet voice. Peter looked over and saw the conman looking out the window, his posture stiff. Instantly regret flooded through Peter and he let out a breath.

"Neal, I'm sorry," Peter said. "I- I shouldn't have yelled, but when I heard that shot I honestly thought..."

"I thought so, too," Neal said, almost looking at Peter but finding the dashboard instead. "It was the closest I've come in a while." He shrugged. "I just... I didn't want to let you down."

Peter's chest tightened slightly and he sighed. "You haven't let me down yet," he said gently, "so stop worrying so much about it."

Neal finally looked up, his eyes holding something like vulnerable curiosity. "You mean that?"

"Yeah, I do." Peter half-smiled and Neal beamed at him. Looking much less pale and much more like himself, the consultant proceeded to try to switch on the radio and Peter swatted his hand away. Neal was like a kid in that way, bouncing back from things so quickly.

"Same rules apply here as in my car," Peter said, raising an eyebrow.

"Even after we just had a moment?" Neal pleaded with a puppyish expression.

"It was not _a_ _moment_, Caffrey. What are you, a twelve-year-old girl?" Peter's eyes showed that he didn't mean it, and Neal shrugged cheerfully.

"Don't think so," he said. "Sorry to disappoint." Peter shook his head, amused. There was a moment of more comfortable silence.

"By the way, I'm supposed to invite you to dinner. Elizabeth needs your 'palate' again."

"I'll be there," Neal said, grinning brightly. Peter rolled his eyes but couldn't help smiling back.

"Let's see if we can make it till then with no more near-death incidents, okay?" The agent requested.

"I'll try," Neal said with a smirk. Peter raised an eyebrow in mock-threat.

"You'd better."


	26. Zippy

_A/N: Wow. The finale was just... wow. Please don't review with spoilers, in case anyone's here who hasn't seen it yet. Here we have the last one in this twenty-six... You guys have been awesome! Thanks to everyone who's reviewed, favorited, or alerted. :) _

Neal Caffrey walked back into Peter's office with two mugs of coffee and saw the new file on the desk. 

"Is that what I think it is?" He asked hopefully.

"What do you think it is?" Peter asked with a hint of teasing in his voice.

"What do you _think_ I think it is?" Neal countered.

"What-" Peter broke off, shaking his head. "You're ridiculous."

"That's what they tell me," Neal said cheerfully. "So, really, is it a case?"

"It is," Peter said, nodding. He grinned as Neal's expression lit up and he set down the coffee, pulling on his suit jacket.

"What are we waiting for, then? Let's go!" Neal grinned.

"Cool it, Zippy," Peter said. "I have to finish this first."

"Really?" Neal asked, face falling.

"Really," Peter said grimly. He smirked and turned around. He heard Neal fidgeting in his seat, waiting impatiently. The second Peter switched his computer monitor off, Neal shot up.

"Alright, can we go now?"

"Yes," Peter said with a small chuckle. Neal grinned and handed Peter his coat to hasten the process, picking up the file. Peter picked up some other papers as well.

"Where to first, partner?"

"A home on 22nd street," Peter said, snatching the file out of Neal's hands.

"Ah," Neal said, pressing the button to the elevator and practically bouncing on the balls of his feet. Peter rolled his eyes slightly and stepped inside with the slightly overenthusiastic consultant.

"I just need to drop these off at the desk," Peter said just as Neal's phone rang.

"Alright, I'll be right outside." Neal put the phone to his ear and started walking away. "Hi, June."

Peter brought the papers to the young woman at the front desk and walked out into the chilly winter air.

"Okay," he heard Neal say. "Talk to you later."

"What did June have to say?" Peter asked, rejoining the consultant.

"I'm supposed to tell you that you and El are invited to dinner tonight," Neal said with a grin. "There will also be pie."

"Oh, pie," Peter said. "How could I turn that down?"

"You couldn't," Neal said with a smirk. "I told June that, too."

"Just get in the car," Peter said with mock-exasperation. "Zippy."

"What's with the _Zippy_ thing?" Neal asked, sitting in the passenger seat.

"You tell me."


End file.
